


After Hours

by starspangledmanwithaplan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: 3w100writingchallenge, AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bookstore AU, F/M, Female Reader, Gen, Language, Light Angst, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, book-dragon-13, bookstore alternate universe, bucky experiences feels, writing challenge, writing-what-writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 17:05:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17532761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starspangledmanwithaplan/pseuds/starspangledmanwithaplan
Summary: During a rainstorm, you help Bucky pick out a book.





	After Hours

[ ](http://fanaru.com/the-fault-in-our-stars/image/114919-the-fault-in-our-stars-lit-up-like-a-christmas-tree.gif)

Thirty seconds before the sky opened and attempted to flood the streets of Brooklyn, lightning streaked across the sky. The clap of thunder that came next made your heart stop. It was as if Thor, the god of thunder himself, were atop your brick and mortar shop. 

“Great,” you huffed, your heart hammering under your hand. 

A small crowd burst through the door, seeking refuge from the storm, each one apologizing for the water they brought with them. You assured them it was no big deal, gave them a smile, and went behind the desk to brew a fresh pot of coffee and hot chocolate. 

The storm continued to rage on, the rain coming down in sheets, lightning  _ crackling  _ through the sky, thunder shaking the building. Never had you been more grateful for an act of Mother Nature, as it was giving the crowd time to wander around the small bookstore, to find that one book they were told they needed to read, the one that they have been putting off for whatever reason. 

By the time the power went out, it was just after six in the evening. It was close enough to closing time, so when you bid the last patron farewell, you threw the bolt and flipped the sign. With a sigh, you leaned back against the door, allowing your eyes to flutter closed for a handful of moments before realizing that if you left them closed too long, you’d more than likely fall asleep. 

Just as you turned off the main lights, someone was frantically knocking on the door. It was still raining, but not as bad as before, so why did he look as if it were an emergency? You unlocked the door and allowed the man entry, wincing against the stinging rain as it blew in.

“Thank you,” he groaned, shoving the hood from his head. Thick, chestnut hair that had been tucked behind his ears spilled out, framing a set of steel-grey eyes and a whisker-kissed jawline that you thought could actually cut glass. 

“I uh, I was just closing up,” you started explaining. 

The man whirled around to double check the business hours that were painted on the glass. “Did you change your hours?”

Lightning flashed in the corner of your eye, showcasing the sharp angles of his face. Jesus, was he sculpted out of marble? 

“No?”

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” he joked with a wink. 

“I… I mean, no.” God, you sounded like a complete idiot. “But, it  _ is _ almost seven.”

After sliding out of his jacket, the man whose name you still didn’t know ran a hand through his hair. “I only need a few minutes. Please.” 

If he kept looking at you like that, you’d give him anything he wanted. 

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” you asked. 

He hung up his jacket before giving you a shy smile. “See, that’s the thing. I overheard a conversation about a book, so I don’t know any real specifics.”

“Okay,” you murmured, trying very hard to put on your thinking cap instead of focusing on the intoxicating mixture of faded cologne and damp leather. “Fiction, non-fiction, true crime… any of those ring a bell?”

“Fiction,” he answered assuredly, following close as you headed toward the section.

“That’s a start,” you hummed. “Author?”

He shrugged and gave lopsided smile. “Nope.”

“You’re not making this very easy,” you chuckled. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, raking a hand through his hair. 

You turned to face the stranger and gave an understanding smile. “It wasn’t like you didn’t warn me, …” 

“Bucky,” he said as your voice trailed off. “Name’s Bucky.”

After introducing yourself, you continued to ask him about the book. “Do you know any of the character’s names?”

His mouth pulled to the side as he gave it some thought. “Gus? Maybe Hazel?” 

“What else did you overhear about the book?” 

Bucky stayed close behind as you started toward the young adult reading section. “I remember colors, if that helps. Green. No, blue.”

“Could it have been both?” you offered, reaching for a particular book.

“Yeah, probably,” he scoffed irritably at himself. 

You held out  _ The Fault In Our Stars _ . “It’s by John Green and, as you can see, it’s blue.”

Bucky took the book and inspected it closely. “It’s from the young adult reading section, though,” he said incredulously. 

“That it is,” you hummed. “Which leads me to my next question. Whose conversation were you eavesdropping on?”

“My friend’s younger sister,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “Ha- have you read it?”

You gave a weary sigh and nodded. “I have, several times.”

“So, I should get it?”

“Tell me something, Bucky. Do you cry easily?” 

Bucky scoffed and squared his shoulders. “What? No!”

“Sure, oaky,” you teased as you took the book from him. 

“I don’t,” he insisted, following you to the register. 

You rang up the book, shaking your head as he pulled out his wallet, running your own card instead. “This one’s on me.”

“What’s the catch?” Bucky inquired, brows pulled together. 

“Simple,” you murmured, scribbling your number on the back of a business card before tucking it into the top of the book. “Read the book.”

“That’s it?”

With a shrug, you slipped the book into a bag and handed it over. “Well, not entirely.”

“I knew there was more,” Bucky announced. “What else?”

“Once you’re done, let me know whether or not you cried. That’s it.” You were unlocking the front door, happy to see the rain had let up.

Bucky was laughing as he tugged on his jacket. “What’s in it for me if I don’t cry? Which, I won’t, by the way.”

“Besides a free book? All the after hours visits you want.” Any excuse to see the fine specimen before you again. 

“And if I  _ do _ cry?” Bucky wondered softly.

You leaned in close and whispered into his ear, “Cookies and milk, the best cure for a case of the feels.”

Bucky gave a sigh as he appeared to mull things over. He held out his hand a moment alter. “Alright, you got yourself a deal.” 

You shook his hand and watched as he disappeared into the night, silently hoping that he would actually follow through and call. Though you weren’t going to hold your breath. A man like that never looked twice at a woman like you.

Well, you didn’t have to wait long. Bucky was at the shop the next night, right at closing time, and he looked absolutely heartbroken. You were barely able to smother your laughter as his bloodshot eyes met yours. 

“They just loved each other  _ so fucking much _ ,” he choked out. 

You locked the door behind him and turned off the main lights. “I’ve got cookies and milk in the back, Bucky.” 


End file.
